


Sexy Batman

by SassyStarboard



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale Has a Crush on Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mentioned Melissa McCall, Mentioned Sheriff Stilinski, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Stiles Stilinski Has Minor Self-Esteem Issues, Stiles Stilinski Has a Crush on Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21810757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyStarboard/pseuds/SassyStarboard
Summary: “Superman! No, wait. No, Batman. You’re Batman! I’m Batman—that could be you, Der-bear! We could be Batman and—wait, I don’t wanna be Robin—Oh! Oh! I’ll be Superman.------------Stiles gets his wisdom teeth out and Derek has to watch him when he accidentally gets high after having too much pain medication. Which would be fine. Except Stiles is in love with Derek and is too loopy to remember not to say anything stupid.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 10
Kudos: 594





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how weird people on these kinds of drugs can get because when I got my wisdom teeth out I was totally fine. So...warning for inaccuracy, probably? Also, minor warning for Stiles' mouth blood. Also Stiles definitely wouldn’t be able to talk this well cause his face would be way more numb, but...yeah. Enjoy!

“I want your eyes.”

Scott glanced at Stiles from the driver's seat of the Jeep. “What?”

“They’re just so pretty.” Stiles slurred around the bloody gauze stuffed in his mouth. “I want them. It’s not fair. You’re so pretty, Scott. Like an ocean with a face.”

“Thanks, man.” Scott laughed. “Let’s just get you home, okay?”

It was Saturday and Scott didn’t regret putting himself on Stiles-Watch at all. He was always down to help out his buddy, but getting to see Stiles on drugs? Totally worth it. 

Scott had volunteered himself when Sheriff Stilinski had been called to the station at the last minute. The Sheriff had thanked him—assuring him that it wasn’t necessary and apologizing profusely while he searched frantically for his keys—but Scott had assured him he didn’t mind. Taking your best friend to get their wisdom teeth out was just another thing best friends were for, like when they picked you up at the airport.

Although, Stiles did seem like he was a little _too_ on drugs.

Scott took his eyes off the road for what felt like the fifteenth time and risked another glance over into the passenger seat. Stiles had his arm out the window and was rolling his hand up and down outside of the car, making it swim through the wind. His lips were blowing out air like he thought he was making an engine sound but didn’t have enough feeling in his mouth to do it properly. Scott snorted.

“Those dentists were really nice.” Stiles said to no one, his arm dropping to hang out of the window against the car as he stared off into space.

“They sure were, buddy.” Scott told him, pulling into Stiles’ driveway.

“I like violins.”

“Yeah, I bet—wait, you what?” 

Scott jerked the gear shift into park a little too hard, stopping the car more abruptly than he’d meant to. He turned towards Stiles, who was staring at his own hands like he’d grown extra fingers. Except now it wasn’t funny anymore. Because every word Stiles was saying sounded like he had a mouthful of s’mores-sized marshmallows but _violins_ almost sounded like the name of one of his pain medications. The really strong medication. The only medication he wasn’t supposed to take until tomorrow because it was _really really strong_.

“They taste really bad, but it’s okay now.” Stiles told him. “Tastes like butterflies.” 

Stiles frowned. His mouth wasn’t making the T sound like he wanted it to and the gauze was making him sound like a toothless zombie. He sniffed miserably. He didn't want to be a toothless zombie. Stiles repeated the word _butterflies_ a few more times to try and get it right. _Butterflies. Butterflies. Butterfly. Dragonfly. Horsefly. Shoefly._

“Stiles, you what?” Scott repeated urgently. _Shit. Please, please, please—_

“Not violins.” Stiles frowned. He couldn’t make that sound right either. “Vitamins. Vivian.”

“Stiles, did you take the Vicodin they gave you?” Scott asked him seriously. Stiles wilted. He’d made Scott upset, he didn’t want Scott to be upset!

“Nope.” Stiles lied. His mouth wanted to pop the P, but he ended up just blowing out extra air. Scott’s eyes narrowed. Stiles’ cover was blown when his head lolled back against the headrest and he started giggling. “Don’t tell Scotty.”

“I knew you weren’t supposed to be this loopy.” Scott muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Ugh. You weren’t supposed to take that until later! All I had to do was give you a ride home! And I let you get _high_? Oh shit. Dude, your dad’s gonna kill me!”

Oh man, Scott was really starting to wish his mom was here. She had been John’s obvious first choice, but hospital shifts were unpredictable and inconvenient and Stiles had gotten thrown at Scott instead. Meanwhile Scott was seriously worried he’d poisoned Stiles and his mom would be on call until almost midnight. Scott grabbed Stiles’ bag, then hurried around the car and opened the passenger door, slinging Stiles’ arm around his shoulders.

“Nah, I don’t feel that way about you, Scotland.” Stiles tried to push him off. “I don’t wanna go out with you. You’re not my type.”

“What? I’m awesome, why—wait, no. No, don’t. That’s good. I don’t want that either. And you’re high. Oh my _god_ , you’re high. Shit. Get inside, Stiles. Come on.” Scott groaned.

With considerable effort, he dragged Stiles to the front door and fumbled to get the keys out of his pocket, then pushed into the house and heaved Stiles onto the living room couch. Scott let out a puff of air. Thank god for werewolf strength. Of course, it hadn’t been the weight so much as it had been Stiles’ drool and flailing limbs.

Now, Stiles was sitting up on the couch and staring intently at the black screen of the television, his tongue distractedly licking around his swollen lips to try and get rid of the drool. At least, that’s what Scott thought he was doing. In the car ride home, Stiles had spent a solid ten minutes drunkenly singing the munchkin song from _The Wizard of Oz_. It was entirely possible he was hallucinating an audition for the Lollipop Guild.

Scott pulled Stiles’ bag from around his shoulders and dug into it, looking for the instructions that had come with Stiles’ prescription. He looked up in a panic when Stiles laughed and pointed at the blank TV screen. 

“Scotty, look! Look Scotty, they’re werewolves! Just like you! Oh my god, that’s so cool!”

It was not. Everything about this was extremely far from cool. Especially the fact that Scott couldn’t find Stiles’ meds.

“Where’s the paper bag?” Scott asked him. Stiles’ glazed-over eyes were glued to the TV.

“Stiles….. _Stiles_!”

Stiles whirled towards him, eyes wide, then immediately groaned and put his hands to his head. Then yelped in pain when he touched his face and pulled his hands away, his eyes watering. 

“Hurts.” He sniffled.

Scott sat down next to Stiles and put his hand on Stiles’ arm, letting his veins run black to try and help Stiles. Stiles relaxed. Scott sighed.

“Hey, buddy?”

“Hey there, Scotty.” Stiles wiggled his eyebrows. Scott fiercely ignored his tone—although Stiles’ sudden change of heart soothed the slight offense from the boys earlier rejection—and moved on.

“Okay, listen. The doctor gave you a bottle of some weaker pain meds, right? The less crazy ones? And a piece of paper with a prescription on it? Where’s the prescription they gave you? It’s in your bag, right?” Scott said slowly, pulling his hand back to dig through the bag again. 

“Recycle.” 

Scott paled. “You did what?”

“It’s paper. Earth is only green cause we wanna be green. We have to keep it green.” Stiles said seriously.

“You—ugh.” Scott groaned. “You threw it out? Are you sure? Where? The one at the dentist’s office? The recycling by the door? You ditched it there, right?”

“Captain Planet won’t fall to your wiles.” Stiles puffed out his chest and dramatically ran a hand through his hair. “You’ll never find the evidence. I won’t let you steal Lois away from me.”

“Man, you’re out of it.” Scott snorted. After a moment, he remembered what was happening and pulled out his phone. Scott called the dentists office to let them know what he thought had happened and that Stiles needed another prescription, then looked back over at Stiles. Only to find that Stiles was using his face to wipe his drool on the couch cushions, slowly but surely leaving a dedicated trail of pink-tinged slime. Scott made a face. Gross.

“You’re gonna die if I leave you alone, aren’t you?” He cringed.

“Beam me up, Scotty.” Stiles commanded, falling back and holding his hands over his eyes like they were binoculars. "Get it? Like _Star Trek_ , get it?" Scott used his phone to take a picture of Stiles and his hand binoculars, then patted his best friend's head and dialed another number.

_“Hello?”_

“Hey,” Scott ran his hand through his hair, nervous, “Stiles is on drugs and I have to go to the dentist, can you come watch him?”

In silence that followed, Scott could just _hear_ Derek’s eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

_“What?”_

“He got his wisdom teeth out and he took his meds a few hours too early by mistake and they’re supposed to make you a little loopy but he was already spacey from the anesthesia and now he’s high. Can you come make sure he doesn’t die while I run back to the dentist? He left his prescription there.”

_“Did you try calling...literally anyone else?”_

“I can’t. Erica and Boyd are on a date and everyone else is on some weird photography retreat.” Scott told him. There was a pause.

_“Jackson takes photography?”_

“Lydia takes photography.” Scott explained. “So yeah, you were like, my eighth choice. My mom’s at work, Stiles’ dad is at work, and everyone else is either on a date or doing school stuff.”

Derek muttered something under his breath.

“Well yeah, this is what you get for turning teenagers, we haven’t even taken the SATs yet.” Scott pointed out. “Look, Stiles is the first one to get his out so no one else would know what to do anyway, but you’re sort of an adult and you probably won’t accidentally kill him, so are you coming or not?”

Derek sighed. Then— _“Fine. Give me five minutes.”_

Scott punched the air. “Yes! Derek, you have—wait, are you sure? His house is way further than that.“

_“Five minutes.”_ Derek hung up.

Scott looked back at his best friend. Stiles had found the bowl of decorative pine cones Melissa had put on the Stilinski's coffee table and was trying to twirl one on his finger like he thought it was a basketball. 

“Look, no hands!”

The fake pine cone fell onto the carpet.

“That’s super impressive, dude.” Scott said seriously. Stiles gave him a serious nod in return.

“High School Musical.”

A little over five minutes later—after Scott had put on gloves and forced himself through the traumatic experience of switching out Stiles’ bloody mouth gauze—there was a knock at the door. Scott leapt up from the couch and ran through the house to answer it, flinging it open to reveal a tired looking Derek. Or maybe Derek was annoyed. Or happy. Anyway, it didn’t matter, because Derek looked like he always did but Derek was _here_ and Scott could _leave_ and hopefully he could somehow manage to get to the dentist before they closed without breaking any traffic laws.

“Awesome.” Scott sighed with relief and grabbed his keys from the hook by the door, then steered a confused Derek towards the living room. “Okay, he can’t drink out of straws, don’t let him take more drugs, don’t let him swallow the gauze in his mouth, make sure he ices his face, and I’ll be back in like thirty minutes.”

Derek looked overwhelmed and—if Scott didn’t know any better—mildly panicked. “I don’t—“

“Are you good?”

“Are you—“

“Thank you so much! I’ll be right back!” Scott slammed the door behind him.

Derek blinked, processing. After a moment, he sighed, resigned. Scott was right. _This is what you get for turning teenagers._ Derek walked into the living room to find Stiles draped over the couch like a starfish. The cushion next to his face had a questionable pink stain that smelled like diluted blood. The boy in question was facing up towards the ceiling, his head propped up on a pile of pillows and his hands moving through the air as he conducted an imaginary orchestra. It was like the pain medication had brought out his ADD in full force. Derek groaned. Stiles sat up and turned around, his eyes meeting Derek’s.

Stiles’ face lit up immediately. “Derek! You came to my party! And you look so cute! All leathery and muscley and scary and—” He gasped. “Like Terminator!”

Derek was immediately thrown off. Stiles smelled like pain and drugs and blood and every word out of his mouth sounded like it was being spoken by a toddler with a mouth full of chunky peanut butter. 

“ _I’ll be back.”_ Stiles said flatly, swinging his right arm like he was doing the robot.

Derek raised an eyebrow. Definitely on drugs. “You’re drooling.”

Stiles scowled. “No, _you’re_ drooling. Uh, at me. Boom, roasted.” His head turned to the side, away from Derek. “Awesome burn, Stiles. You’re so smart.”

Derek picked up a napkin from the table and handed it to him. Stiles took it carefully from Derek and his eyes started to water. Derek froze, then quickly took the napkin from him and sat down next to Stiles, wiping the drool from his mouth for him. When Derek finished, he dropped the napkin onto the table.

“I appreciate you.” Stiles said gently, putting his hand on Derek’s knee. Oh. Oh, Stiles wasn’t upset, he was just weirdly grateful. Derek could handle that. Stiles was— _oh god_. Derek tensed when Stiles’ hand shifted up and squeezed his thigh. Stiles winked.

Derek shot himself to the other end of the couch and away from Stiles’ hands. Away from extremely drugged Stiles who was drunk on anesthesia and pain medication and had probably done the same thing to Scott. Probably. That didn’t mean Derek wasn’t internally panicking. Meanwhile, Stiles remained oblivious to Derek’s personal meltdown and whined pitifully.

“Um...Scott said you needed ice.” Derek managed gruffly. 

“ _Vanilla ice, ice, baby._ ” Stiles hummed. “No I can’t. We’re out of syrup.”

Derek frowned. “What? Why—oh. No, Stiles, not sno-cones. It’s for your teeth.”

“Can’t. S’bad for teeth. All sugar.”

“No, I—for pain. I’m gonna ice your face. For pain. Just...don’t move.”

Derek hurried to the kitchen and grabbed two ice packs, then sat back down. He started to hand them to Stiles, then thought better of it and held the ice packs up for him, pressing them gently into either side of the boys face. Stiles stared deep into his eyes. Derek tried to find something—anything—else to look at, but Stiles started talking again.

“You’re so nice and pretty.” Stiles said wistfully. “You’re such a sourwolf to people and Scott and Isaac cause they’re weird, but I’m a better weird and that’s cause—and that’s why you’re so nice to me. Don’t worry Derek, I love you too.” Stiles patted Derek’s cheek, a serene smile on his face. “I love you, my sweet wolfy baby. I love you.”

Derek was holding the ice against Stiles’ face with slightly more force than he needed too. Stiles didn’t know what he was saying. He had no idea how much he could hurt Derek by saying things like this. Stiles was probably drugged enough to confess his love for _Jackson_. He was only talking to Derek because there was no one else here. If Derek left, Stiles would probably turn his affections on the coffee table.

“No you don’t.” Derek gritted out painfully. Immediately, Stiles looked distraught.

“Yes, I do!” Stiles slurred, whining. “You’re awesome! And you look like Superman! No, wait. No, you’re Batman. You’re Batman! _I’m Batman_ —” Stiles lowered his pitch to imitate Batman’s gravelly voice,“—that could be you, Der-bear! We could be _Batman_ and—oh, I don’t wanna be Robin. Batman doesn’t wanna fuck Robin—Oh! Oh! _I’ll_ be Superman. Then we can date and it’ll be like a sexy crossover. We could run a coffee shop together! Oh, we have to Derek, you’d be so sexy! Scary sexy. Sexy Batman. You-you scare off all the bad guys all around and you get—you get to save me from falling buildings.”

Derek blinked, floored. Stiles had a thick film of drool over his chin and he was staring at Derek expectantly. Derek who had only understood about sixty percent of Stiles’ rambling and absolutely didn’t know what to say. He knew what _not_ to say, because Stiles was on drugs and he had to take anything Stiles said with an entire pillar of salt because the poor boy probably had no idea who he was even talking too. No idea that Derek really did love him and that Derek was having a lot of difficulty taking care of Stiles when he was like this. The sheer effort it took to completely ignore everything Stiles was saying was starting to hurt.

“Maybe you should get some rest.” Derek forced out.

Stiles looked horribly sad. “I don’t like that face.”

Derek faltered. “What face? This is my face.”

“No. S’not. You have lots of good faces. That’s a bad face. That’s a _I’m being mean to myself cause I think I suck even though Stiles thinks I’m awesome_ face. Actually, that is your face, but don’t let it be your face. Don’t do that. Don’t be mean. Be happy! You should be happy, Sourwolf! Let me love you.” Stiles sobbed. “I like loving you, Derek. I want you to be happy and shiny.”

“...that’s nice.” Derek managed. 

“Do you love me?” Stiles asked desperately, his face still squished between the ice packs.

Derek hesitated, carefully setting the ice down on the table.

Stiles wouldn’t remember this. The house was empty. No one would hear them. Even though this wasn’t how Derek had pictured it going at all, maybe how he felt would go away if he got to tell Stiles to his face. His swollen, disgusting, drool-covered, ice pack face. This was Derek’s chance to tell Stiles how he felt without getting violently, heart-breakingly rejected. Derek could help himself move on and no one would ever know. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want it like this. _Stiles_ wouldn’t want it like this. Stiles was barely lucid, let alone aware enough to know what he wanted. 

Unfortunately, Derek must have taken too long to answer because now Stiles looked like he was starting to cry and Derek couldn’t stand it. 

“Yes.” He said. “Yes, Stiles, I love you too.”

Stiles’ face lit up brilliantly. “Yay.” He whispered. “That’s so happy. Do you really?’

“Yes.” Derek promised. “I love you. But it’s a secret, okay?”

Stiles gave a funny laugh. Derek tensed. Stiles dimmed.

“My face is cold.”

Derek sighed with relief. He’d already forgotten.

“I know, Stiles.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Brief, mild angst, but I hope y'all like it. Fluffy ending, of course. I strive for adorableness. Enjoy!!

“You’re just jealous that I got two days off from school.”

Stiles walked into Derek’s loft with Erica striding in after him. It was Wednesday. Pack meeting day. Almost four whole days since Stiles had gotten his wisdom teeth out and even though today had been his first day back at school, he was still excited to see everyone in a non-boring setting where he didn’t have to think about shit like the War of 1812. He needed this. Badly. Stiles loved his dad more than anything, but multiple forced salt-water flushes had left him desperate for human contact with someone who hadn’t lovingly attacked his gums with a syringe. If only his dad would go after salads the same way he had gone after his poor, defenseless son when Stiles had hidden from him in the garage. Which Stiles absolutely couldn’t be blamed for because salt water flushes were _beyond_ gross.

“You had to get four teeth ripped out of your mouth.” Erica’s glossed lips curled.

“Still got two days off from school.” Stiles stuck his tongue out at her. “You and Isaac had to take a giant history test.”

“You still have to take that and I saw pictures.” Erica made a disgusted face. “Your face was so swollen you looked like you were sucking on golf balls.”

Stiles’ face fell and he whined. “Scott!”

The two of them walked in just in time to see Scott, Isaac, and Boyd laughing at him. Stiles scowled. 

As soon as Stiles’ dad had gotten off work, Scott had abandoned them to go suck face with Allison. To be fair, Scott had already spent most of his free time with his girlfriend anyways and Stiles had a feeling Allison was a lot more appealing than bloody tortured mouth wounds, but it was still totally not cool. Scott would probably hang out with her later too; Allison was missing the pack meeting because apparently even families of hunters still had family dinners. Of course, Lydia and Jackson weren’t coming either, but they were stuck in detention. Finstock hadn’t taken kindly to them _using_ his office.

Scott grinned sheepishly at him. “How do you feel, buddy?”

“Like I got four fucking holes in my mouth, Scotty.” Stiles scowled, unceremoniously dropping himself onto the couch. “Thanks for making me hitchhike over here, by the way.”

“Hitchhike?” Erica scoffed. “I wish you had. You wouldn’t stop giving me directions, I felt like I had an extra GPS.”

Isaac snorted. Scott winced. “Oh man, my bad. I forgot you weren’t allowed to drive.”

“Uh, _yeah_ .” Stiles said. “ _No operating heavy machinery_ ring a bell? Not until I’m off the antibiotics anyway. They’re paranoid it’s gonna react with my Adderall and I’ll have a medical seizure that turns into a car wreck. I feel like I’m stuck on desk duty.”

Erica pursed her lips. Boyd reached over and took her hand. Stiles shrank.

“Sorry.” He said quietly. Scott frowned, concerned, then his face split into a grin. 

“Do you guys wanna see more pictures of Stiles on drugs?”

Stiles froze. “What? More? No! What?”

“Yay!” Erica exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with glee. Erica and Isaac surged towards Scott like twin sharks. Boyd watched from his spot on the couch, amused. Stiles glared furiously and Scott panicked, tossing the phone at Stiles. Stiles fumbled with it and clutched it to his chest, scowling at the other werewolves. Isaac and Erica pouted. Stiles flipped through Scott’s camera roll to find pictures from Saturday of him drooling all over his couch like a zombie. Erica was right. He looked like a slobbering chipmunk. Thank god Derek hadn’t seen him like this. Stiles would’ve killed himself. 

Boyd leaned towards Stiles, grinning as the other two hurried back over and crowded around Stiles as well. Stiles could hear both of them breathing into his ears as they leaned over his shoulders.

“Awww, you look so cute!” Isaac commented. Stiles whined and chucked Scott’s phone back at his friend's head. Scott caught it easily just before it smacked him in his stupid smug face. Stiles pouted as Erica and Isaac went back to their seats on the other couch. Stupid dumb werewolves.

“Okay, I know you were pretty high, but do you remember any of that?” Scott asked. “Cause you seemed like you were having fun.”

“Um, kind of? I remember you. Maybe.” Stiles’ brow furrowed, thinking. Then his eyes went wide. “Oh no. Scott, tell me the truth...did we watch _Star Trek_?”

Scott burst out laughing.

“Scott, you’re not answering!” Stiles pushed. “Scott, did I besmirch my homeland of Alderaan? Scott?”

Derek walked in and sat down across from him. He glanced up at Stiles. The other werewolves turned to Derek with odd expressions on their faces, like they could sense something Stiles couldn’t. Stiles offered him an awkward smile.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked him. Weirdly, Derek wasn’t glaring—-wasn’t even properly looking at him, for that matter—-but Stiles nodded.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

“Are you positive?”

“Yeah. I know the pictures look bad, but I’m fine.”

“Pictures?”

“On Scott’s phone. It just looked bad though. I mean, my face hurts. But yeah. Thanks. I think...um, I just need...I need—"

* * *

_“I love you, my sweet wolfy baby.”_

_“Oh, we have to Derek, you’d be so sexy! Scary sexy.”_

_“I like loving you, Derek. I want you to be happy and shiny.”_

* * *

Stiles froze. His eyes went wide as he stared at Derek in horror. A harsh, involuntary choking noise came from the back of Stiles’ throat. 

Everyone looked at him. Including Derek. 

For once, Stiles was speechless.

“Are you...okay?” Derek asked him. Big, stupid, werewolf Derek who could definitely hear Stiles’ insane heartbeat right now and could definitely smell the embarassment that was probably exploding out of him like a big freaking shame volcano. Stiles felt violently ill. _Oh my god he’s gonna kill me Derek’s gonna kill me Derek knows I like him Derek’s gonna kill me._

“Um-I-I-I don’t—did I—Derek. _Derek_ . Oh my god, Derek were you there while I was on drugs? Please say no. Please _god_ say no. I hallucinated you, right? You weren’t there? Derek?” Stiles choked out.

Everyone turned to look at Derek who, for once, had the decency to look uncomfortable.

“Would you feel better if I said no?” He said finally. The others burst out laughing.

“Please tell me you got video!” Erica begged, collapsing into Boyd with laughter.

Stiles groaned. “Oh my god. Fuck—kill me. Please kill me. Scott, put me out of my misery. I wanna die. Die me now.”

“What are you talking about?” Scott managed. “I already told you I had to make Derek watch you cause you threw out your prescription and I—“

“Make me?”

“—do you not remember?”

Stiles whined. “No. I do. I remember. I remember now. That’s what’s so bad. Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“Awww, do you three need a moment alone?” Erica simpered. Scott, Derek, and Stiles all whirled to look at her. Horribly, Scott grinned.

“You know what, I think the _two_ of them need some alone time. Erica, Isaac, Boyd, why don’t we take a stroll down the street?” He suggested smugly.

“That won’t be necessary.” Derek forced out.

“I think a stroll sounds lovely.” Boys rose from his seat. Isaac and Erica followed. Scott winked at Stiles.

“Scotty, don’t do me like this.” Stiles begged.

“What? Can’t hear you!”

The four werewolves, who could absolutely hear them, were positively cackling and practically ran out the door in their hurry to get Derek and Stiles alone.

And now Derek and Stiles were alone. They stared vaguely near each other, not knowing what to say and mutually terrified of making eye contact. Stiles ran his tongue over the holes in his gums even though the dentist had told him not to. Derek glared at Scott’s abandoned armchair. Finally, it was too much. Stiles broke the silence.

“I’m not super sure what I did—“ Stiles lied, “—but look dude, I’m really sorry if I freaked you out or something. Whatever it was, if it was weird, I’m sure I didn’t mean it.”

Derek frowned at him, his eyebrows furrowing. Stiles, confused, mirrored his expression.

“What?”

“That was a lie.” Derek said. “Why was that a lie?”

Stiles winced. “Right. Super powers.”

* * *

_“You’re Batman! I’m Batman—that could be you, Derek! We could be Batman and—oh, I don’t wanna be Robin. Batman doesn’t wanna fuck Robin—Oh! Oh! I’ll be Superman. Then we can date!”_

* * *

Stiles cringed. “Oh wow.” He shook his head, trying to clear it, his face scrunched up in discomfort. He sighed.

“Look, Derek, I’m sorry.” Stiles apologized seriously. “I was...quite apparently extremely and severely high. I didn’t mean to...confess my love for you like that. Totally uncalled for.”

Derek studied him. Stiles wanted to melt into his chair. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to sink into the cushions, missing Derek’s almost nervous expression.

“You didn't mean to say it or you didn’t mean it?” Derek asked him.

Stiles opened one eye, wincing. “Um...it’s not...I...um, the second one?”

“I can hear your heart, Stiles.”

“Oh...then...the first one.” Stiles said quietly. 

This was it. He was going to die. Derek almost never had feelings and Stiles had way way too many of them and Stiles was going to die. He could see the headlines now. _Beautiful Son of Hero Sheriff Mauled by Sexy, Revenge-Seeking Wolf_. Stiles braced himself for the inevitable, his hands twisting and fidgeting and flexing.

“Do you really love me?”

Stiles sort of heard Derek ask him a question, but Derek’s voice sounded far away and Stiles was busy praying desperately to every possible deity for the sweet release of death to save him from the huge embarrassment he was about to suffer. No such luck. Stiles looked down into his lap, thinking and tugging at a loose thread in his jeans.

“It’s just...when...I-I mean, when you put it like that, anything can sound...um, kind of. Yeah.”

Stiles felt the couch dip as Derek sat down next to him. Horrifically, Stiles could feel tears starting to prick behind his eyes. This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted. He didn’t need another beautiful person he’d become creepily obsessed with to look at him with pity in their eyes. He didn’t need _Derek freaking Hale_ to look at him like he was a kicked puppy. This was exactly why Stiles hadn’t told anyone about his big, stupid, stalkery crush on Derek Hale. Not even Scott. It was utterly humiliating. Stiles sniffed. 

“Stiles, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” Stiles managed. “No it’s not.” His eyes squeezed shut as chest got tighter and tighter.

Suddenly there was a weight on him and Stiles felt himself relaxing far too quickly. He kept his eyes closed and let himself take a deep breath before he looked over. Derek’s hand was resting on the back of Stiles’ neck, his veins running black. Derek’s eyes were soft and kind.

“Stiles, I promise you, it’s okay.” Derek told him.

Stiles shook his head. No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t and he didn’t understand. Derek should hate him. Why didn’t Derek hate him? Why was Derek looking at him like that? Stiles didn’t deserve the way Derek was looking at him, he...he was...

“Are you...Stiles, do you remember what I said to you?” Derek asked. His eyes were full of worry and concern.

“...I don’t know.” Stiles reached over and squeezed Derek’s other hand. “I thought...I didn’t...”

* * *

_“I love you. But it’s a secret, okay?”_

_“I love you.”_

_“I know.”_

* * *

“Oh.” Stiles said softly. Derek ran his thumb over Stiles’ hand. Stiles could feel the air slowly coming back into his lungs. Maybe it was okay. Maybe he wasn’t about to die an early death. Maybe...maybe Derek...

“You _like me_ -like me?” Stiles asked quietly.

Derek gave a low chuckle at his word choice. “Yes. I...like you-like you. Although it’s... I’m pretty sure it’s a lot stronger than than like you-like you. It’s closer to...I...I really like you, Stiles. A lot.”

“Oh.”

Stiles felt Derek’s fingers move up slightly into his hair, scratching lightly at the curls near the nape of his neck. Stiles melted and let his head fall onto Derek’s shoulder. 

“I like you-like you too.” Stiles said quietly. He felt Derek sigh and Stiles just _knew_ Derek was rolling his eyes at him.

“Can we please stop saying that?”

“No. It’s funny hearing it in your wolfy alpha voice. You sound like Batman.” Stiles’ voice was still hoarse, but it was a little stronger now. _Derek likes me. Derek likes me. Derek likes me._

“Please stop calling me Batman. I don’t want to know where you got that from.”

Stiles scoffed into Derek’s neck, his fingers playing with the buttons on Derek’s shirt. “Uh, you did all the work for me, Mr.Tall-Dark-and-Brooding.”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to be happy and shiny too.” Derek teased. Stiles groaned and fell into Derek’s lap. His face still hurt, but he didn’t care. What he did care about was exactly how high he’d been and how much damage control he needed to do.

“Everything I said while I was on drugs is gonna come back to bite me in the ass, isn’t it?”

“Big time.”

“Well it better be the sexy kind of biting, because--”

_“Oh, my god, just kiss already!”_

_“Nut up and get a room, losers!”_

They stopped. Stiles sat up, embarrassed again. Derek put a comforting hand on his knee.

“Have they been outside the whole time?” Stiles asked quietly. Derek snorted.

“Have you met any of them? They never left the hall. They’re all pressed up against the door, eavesdropping.”

“ _We just want you to be happy!”_

_“Yeah, so you’ll stop fucking moping!”_

“We can’t kiss, dumbass! I had mouth surgery!” Stiles loudly reminded the door. Derek had a half smile on his face, leaning into Stiles as he tried to hold in his laughter. Stiles pouted. 

“They ruined the moment.” He said miserably. Derek cocked his head, considering something, then he grinned and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ cheek.

“You didn't get surgery anywhere else, did you?"

Stiles burst out laughing. “That is the creepiest, weirdest pickup line I’ve ever heard, but no, I did not.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell’s yeah. I’m all in, Batman.”

“I told you to stop that.” Derek said lightly. Stiles scoffed.

“And I’m telling you no because it’s accurate and hilarious. You brought this on yourself, Bruce.”

_“Quit being dorks!”_

_“Geez Scott, at least_ **_we’re_ ** _not targeting the core of their personalities.”_

_“Don’t be a dick, Isaac. At least I didn’t tell them nut up like_ **_Erica_ ** _did.”_

_“All three of you are children.”_

_“I’m sorry, whose idea was it to eavesdrop from here instead of out on the fire escape? You don’t get to act innocent, Boyd.”_

_“You’re right. I’m very sorry I didn’t want our tombstones to read_ **_thrown off the side of a building by an angry werewolf_ ** _.”_

Derek pursed his lips, then he sighed. He squeezed Stiles’s hands and leaned closer. He could do that now. He could hold Stiles’ hand and Stiles wouldn’t let go. _Mine_.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Derek asked quietly. 

Stiles beamed.

“Whisk me away, Batman.”


End file.
